


Though Your Love Ain't Guaranteed

by narrydreams



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Pining, blowjob, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4736639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrydreams/pseuds/narrydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's a player, and Harry tries hard to not fall in love with him. But the fact that they're roommates and best friends who are a little closer than regular friends, makes that hard on Harry. When Niall finally gets a boyfriend, Harry starts getting some unwanted feelings, and things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though Your Love Ain't Guaranteed

**Author's Note:**

> IVE TRIED TO POST THIS SO MANY TIMES BUT IT KEEPS COMING OUT WEIRD !!!!
> 
> Anyways, the title is from the song Someone New by Banks. 
> 
> And I haven't written smut before so.....haahahhaaa

Harry knew it was routine of Niall to bring someone home Saturday night after an excursion to the club to fuck. He'd done it since freshman year when they were still roommates in the dorms. Harry had made a habit of staying over at Liam and Louis's for the past years, but tonight, he just wanted to take a damn bath after a long, hard week. 

He used Niall's bathtub, since it was bigger than his. Niall called dibs on it and the room when they first moved in, and Harry, being the kind-hearted, non-confrontational angel that he was, didn't argue. Harry figured that he would get out of the bath and go back to Liam and Louis's before Niall got back, simple. 

He had filled the tub almost fully with burning hot water, enough to make his skin red. Sleepiness was creeping its way into Harry, and in less than thirty minutes, he'd fallen asleep, entranced by the sweet smell of the cinnamon soap he'd poured in the water. 

Now, about an hour after he was first woken up by the door slamming shut and excessive noises of lips slapping tongue, Harry was lying in the tub, bathrobe on, phone in his hand, trying to make his presence in the house unknown. 

Niall and his lover for the night were completely unaware that Harry was in the bathroom, less than twenty feet away from them. And in this case, ignorance was truly bliss. Seeing as Niall believed Harry was at their friends' place for the night, knowing that Niall would most definitely bring someone home, there was no reason for either Niall or his boy toy to be quiet at all. 

So, for about an hour, Harry listened to the filthy sounds blasting from behind the bathroom door, trying hard not to snicker and even harder not to be turned on by Niall's deep groans of pleasure. By now, though, Harry was wishing that both of them would just orgasm and fall asleep (because they've been going at it nonstop for a whole, entire, fucking hour, and that's bound to be exhausting), so Harry could slip out of Niall's room, back to his own and sleep, without being disrupted. But by the sounds of it, they were far from finishing. 

As time went by, Harry resorted to texting Louis out of boredom about his predicament. Louis was more amused than Harry was, asking for him to record some of the noises Harry heard, to which Harry replied no; it wasn't just the particular situation that made him feel uncomfortable now, something else was poking at his heart. 

Niall's sexual habits hadn't bothered him at all, but now, lying in the cold, hard tub, with the sounds of someone else pleasuring Niall filling his ears, Harry was irritated. Harry was irritated about the fact that Niall didn't want to settle down with anyone and commit to a relationship and had to bring home someone new every Saturday night to fuck to appease his sexual appetite, which left Harry sleeping on a couch in Louis's living room every weekend. He was irritated that even now, in his own damn apartment, he had to make himself invisible so that this mystery boy could fuck Niall. But most of all, he was irritated about hearing Niall fucking someone, someone who wasn't him. 

The words, "Yeah, I kind of fancy Niall" would never leave Harry's mouth, mostly because Harry was too deep in denial to admit that he had the tiniest, little spark of a crush for his roommate and best friend of four years. He would never admit to himself, much less anyone else, that whenever Niall laughed, which was all the time because the dork never learned to smile without giggling even a little bit, Harry felt like his heart was bursting into a million little butterflies. Mostly though, Harry didn't admit it, even to himself, that he might be in love with Niall because he knew. He knew that Niall could never settle down. Hell, for the last four years, he'd first-handedly witnessed Niall bring home someone new every, single weekend (how he did this remained a mystery to everyone. There couldn't possibly be enough people on campus for Niall to find someone new to fuck every week). So, for the sake of saving his heart from the emotional death sentence that was falling in love with Niall Horan, Harry decided to not pay attention to it, as he'd been doing for three years.

For what seemed like ten more hours, Harry sat in the cold tub, hair damp and sticking to the back of his neck, knees knocking back and forth together subconsciously, trying to make the best of his situation by giggling at the pornographic moans coming from his best friend's mouth, but really just stewing over the fact he's forced to probably sleep here for the night. He sinks down even further in the tub, pulls his robe tighter around his body, and tries to drown out obscene noises behind the door. Before long, he was drifting off to sleep again, pink, puffy lips pouted, eyelids scrunched together, thinking about how he was going to get Niall back for this. 

******

"Harry!" Niall hissed into Harry's ear, shaking his shoulder. Harry's eyes slowly flutter open, confused about why his back is cold and stiff, and why Niall was in his room. Then he remembered. Harry looked at his friend, blond hair flat and mussed up, wearing only a loose pair of boxer shorts. Harry didn't want to stare, but he could see the outline of Niall's dick through the shorts. Harry bit his swollen lips unconsciously, then looked away, up into Niall's piercing eyes. 

"Styles, what the hell are you doing in the tub?" Niall wasted no time interrogating his friend once he could see Harry's bright green irises, and he wasn't sure, but he thinks Harry might have been looking at this crotch. He was glad he decided to pull on some shorts, even though he usually wouldn't have. Coming into the bathroom to pee after sex doesn't usually involve finding your roommate sleeping in your bathtub. 

Stinging warmth spread through Harry's cheeks and ears, and right now, he was glad the room was dark. 

"I," Harry whispered frantically, totally unsure of how to explain himself, "uh, I, um, I was taking a bath, and I fell asleep, and you were already home." Harry paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "So I, uh, I just decided to stay in here. I thought that might be less awkward." 

Niall stared at him, even in the darkness, Harry could almost see embarrassment spreading across Niall's face.

"You..." Niall shifted his weight uncomfortably, dropping his eyes to look at his feet, "you heard everything?" Now it was Niall's turn to feel awkward. He was very vocal during sex, one of those things his partners usually liked. But now that his best friend has heard every, single one his salacious words, he wasn't sure he would ever say those things ever again, ever. 

Harry smirked at how uncomfortable Niall sounded, and of course decided to take advantage of it. 

"Oh, yeah!" Harry fake moaned, mocking Niall, still keeping his voice just above a slight murmur, "Yes, baby, you feel so good around my cock! Yes!" Harry threw his head back and moaned one more time for effect. He wiggled his eyebrows and looked at Niall, who was trying to suppress the grin growing on his face. 

"Shut up, Styles." Niall curled the corner of his lips in a smile and stuck a hand out to Harry, who was still sitting in the tub. Harry grabbed onto Niall's strong fingers and lifted himself up, his momentum almost making him dive into Niall's chest. He made an effort to pull away, but Niall held him there, lips by Harry's ear, and whispered, "You know I sounded good." 

Harry's breath hitched in his throat; he hoped Niall wouldn't notice he wasn't breathing. Niall let his hand go, and Harry finally snapped back, flipping up his middle finger and stepping out of the tub. A small giggle left Niall's lips as he finally made his way to the toilet. It took a lot of effort for Harry not to look, so he stretched his stiff muscles. 

"He's asleep now, so you can go back to your room." Niall loudly whispered to Harry, pulling up his shorts and flushing the toilet. He made his way to the door before Harry and walked out, Harry trailing behind him. As Harry slipped out of Niall's door, he turned to peek at the boys in bed. Niall had curled around the dark-haired boy in his bed and pressed his lips behind the boy's ears. Before Harry could feel anymore jealousy towards the mystery boy, he shuffled out of the room, back to his across the hall, hoping to get a couple hours of sleep before the sun rose again. 

******

In his dreams, Harry was rowing a boat on a river; it was weird, but no one questions dreams. Someone started grabbing the end of his boat and rocking it, pulling it into the water. He was going to drown. 

"Styles! Wake up!" Niall's shout saved dream Harry from drowning, then Harry realized Niall's jumping on his bed made its way into his dream as the rocking of the boat. 

There was a ray of light peeking through Harry's curtains. Other than that, it didn't look too bright outside. Definitely too early to be awake on Sunday morning. So, Harry groaned in disapproval and rolled over on his side, tugging his blanket tighter around him. 

But Niall wouldn't give up. He whines again and pushes Harry's shoulder. When Harry is unresponsive, Niall plops his whole body down on Harry's. 

"Styles," Niall whined in his ear, "please will you wake up and make me some pancakes? I'm so heartbroken." Niall rolls off Harry's side for dramatic effect, and falls on the floor. 

It's not enough for Harry. Heartbroken about what? Harry pulls the blanket over his head. Niall's small wince of pain isn't even enough to get Harry to poke his head out. 

"Fine, be a little lazy bitch." Niall huffed and sat up, "I'll just go wallow in misery because my beautiful lover from last night has abandoned me without a single word." Again with the melodramatics. 

Harry grumbles something under his breath, not loud enough for Niall to hear. 

"What was that, Styles?" Niall scooted closer to Harry's head, that was almost falling over the edge of the bed, "You'll make me chocolate chip pancakes?" 

"No, you idiot," Harry groaned. His voice was so gravelly from sleep, and his nose was still stuffy. "I said that this happens every week. What was so special about this one?" One of his eyes opened to look at Niall's baby blue eyes, staring at his face with a rehearsed puppy dog face and pouty lips. But it wasn't that well rehearsed as Harry saw a smile trying to tug a grin onto Niall's face. 

"He was so gorgeous." Niall sighed, "and he just left, didn't even leave a number. And that is why I need at least ten chocolate chip pancakes ASAP to mend my broken heart." 

This time Harry didn't respond. Just groaned once again and stretched his arms in bed. He wasn't looking at Niall, but he could tell the idiot blond boy was grinning. 

"Go get the stuff out." Harry commanded Niall, and in less than a second he heard Niall shuffling to get up and run out of his room. 

Harry groped around on his nightstand for his phone to check the time. 8:37. Niall was going to owe him for this. He grabbed the hair tie lying next to phone and gathered his hair in a bun, rubbed his eyes and dragged himself out of bed and into his bathroom. 

In fifteen minutes he had showered and brushed his teeth and made his way into the kitchen to make Niall's pancakes. The TV was showing a soccer game that Niall watched intently from the edge of the couch. There was a can of beer opened on the coffee table with a mug of tea next to it. Barely nine o'clock in the morning and Niall was already drinking. Harry shook his head and grabbed the bag of flour to start the pancakes. 

"Styles, they smell delicious." Niall had pulled himself away from the game long enough to steal one of the cooked pancakes from the heaping plate. "And taste even better." He added with his mouth full. 

Harry shooed him away with his spatula, but not before Niall snatched five more, a plate, and the maple syrup sitting on the counter. The melted chocolate chips studded in the pancakes burned Niall's fingers as he threw them on a plate, and Niall had to take a break to suck on his tingling fingers. After drowning the pancakes with syrup, Niall returned to his place on the couch, directly in front of the TV. 

At the end of the first half, Harry sat down next to Niall on the couch, his legs crossed with his plate of pancakes in his lap. Niall had finished his first plate and in the kitchen to stack on more. The beer can was empty, but the tea neglected in the mug was getting cold. 

Niall comes back into the living room with a tower of pancakes, floating in a lake of syrup, flops down on the couch and lays his head on Harry's shoulder. 

"Thanks, mate." Niall said to Harry, shoveling pancake into his mouth. 

"No problem," Harry shrugged Niall's head off his shoulders and leaned into the opposite arm of the couch. "Couldn't leave you heartbroken, now could I?" He wasn't sure if Niall could hear the sarcastic bitterness in his voice, but Harry himself sure did. He didn't even know why it was there. Niall does, and has been doing this almost every week for four years. There's never been a problem with it, so why was there just a pinch of bitterness in Harry's heart? 

Niall didn't seem to notice Harry's affliction and grinned stupidly at the TV. 

"To be honest, I'm not that heartbroken." Niall giggled, looking at Harry who was giving him a "yeah, no shit, really?" look. "I don't really even remember the blokes name. Z-Zach? Z-z... Zayn? Zayn. Yes it was Zayn." Niall smiled a little to himself. "A pretty name for a pretty boy." He said. And there it was again. A lump in Harry's throat, making it hard to swallow his bite of food. 

Niall, again, was completely oblivious as yet another forkful of pancake went past his lip. 

"Did you see him, Styles? When you were walking out?" Niall asked, his gaze once again focused on the TV screen as the second half started. 

Harry didn't move. Does he lie to make it seem like he doesn't care? It's not a big deal, though, that he looked, right? I mean, he was curious about who it was that made his friend scream so loudly and proudly. 

"It was probably too dark for you to see." Niall finally says, setting his empty plate on the coffee table. "We might see him around on campus. I'll point him out if we do. He's an art major." 

Harry didn't expect Niall to know so much about that Zayn guy. 

"Is it just me," Harry grinned, trying to suppress his feelings of envy, "or is someone smitten with his fuck from last night?" 

His gaze isn't returned, and Niall just shrugs, still completely focused on the match. 

"He was really, really fucking hot, Styles, and a good fuck." Niall responded, chuckling a little, "I would not hesitate to hit it again, honestly." He added, this time turning to look at Harry with wiggling eyebrows. Harry's only response was to roll his eyes and huff. He knew Niall was just saying that. Niall has never fucked the same person twice; he'd made a pact with himself not to. 

Something was bothering Harry still. This was the first time Niall had discussed one of his sexual partners with Harry. And even though he said he only fancied Zayn for looks, Harry could see a little twinkle in Niall's eyes, a little blush to his cheeks when he asked. But Harry brushed it off; it was probably nothing. After four years of fucking around, Niall wouldn't just settle the guy after almost forgetting his name. 

\----------

His phone screen read 14:36, five minutes after Niall sent the text to Zayn. Finding Zayn's number in his contacts had made Niall giddier than the time he sucked in almost half a balloon full of helium at Ariana's party. He had no recollection of Zayn giving him his number, so Niall indulged himself with the fantasy that Zayn left it in there, just before he'd snuck out, early in the morning, so that Niall could meet him again. 

Content in living in his fantasy, Niall sighed, and read over his text again, for the fifteenth time. 

Hey ! I knew u wouldn't sneak away w/o givin me ur #

Good, not too desperate but still sounding interested. Not shabby for someone who's never contacted a one night stand on the morning, well, afternoon, after.

He was happy that he met a boy like Zayn last night, just the perfect guy to distract him from his true miseries. The mission last night, different from all other nights, was to find the one, the one who will make him happy enough to stop pining after a certain curly-headed weirdo who takes baths in his tub and leaves it smelling of cinnamon and chocolate.

It's been 84 years (minus the eighty), and Harry still has not shown the least bit of interest in him. Niall knew part of it was due to his promiscuous ways. At first, it was just out of pure "habit" you could say. Niall's never been bad with the ladies and gentlemen or anyone in between, and he wasn't one to discriminate. So naturally, he'd had someone to bring home a couple of weekends in a row after a few months of getting to know Harry, making sure it wouldn't scare him away.

And it didn't, it never bothered Harry. But the fact that Harry was so damn unbothered by Niall's sleeping around bothered Niall. It bothered him so much that for the past two years, he'd been drastically slowing down. Most Saturday nights, he went out the clubs for maybe an hour, scoped around, and if no one catches his eye, he comes back home, changes into sweats, and sits on the couch eating Harry's expensive, organic artisan ice cream (then he would go out and buy more because he felt bad about eating the ice cream, even though the reason Harry keeps buying it is because he knows Niall is the one eating it). Truthfully, Niall hasn't brought someone home in almost two months before Zayn.

The idea to tell Harry this never crossed his mind. Niall thought Harry might even like to get away from him once in a while since they've been living together for four years. Their routine has been tradition for so long that Niall worried that changing it might disrupt the balance of the universe.

Sometimes, though, when he's watching a movie all by himself on Saturday night, he wished he could be laying his head on Harry's chest, tracing his stupid bird tattoos running under his collarbones. Niall wished that he could bury his nose in the crook of Harry's neck whenever his nose got cold, which was all the time. And most of all, Niall wanted to kiss those stupid, puffy, red lips that Harry chews on way too much. Maybe if Niall preoccupied them by pressing kisses into them all the time, Harry wouldn't be so inclined to bite and bruise them.

But, alas, here he was again, Sunday afternoon, alone at home because Harry's gone off to his shift at the radio station. Periodically, Niall checked his phone, waiting for a text from Zayn, trying to convince himself that maybe the boy was busy and hadn't checked his phone yet. But a part of him was hoping that Zayn wouldn't respond. Then there would be no excuse to not try again with his beloved curly-haired weirdo.

The ding from Niall's phone startled him. Zayn had texted him, finally. The notification lighting up his screen read,

Ha ! Of course I wouldn't !! I was waiting for u to text :)x

Niall felt giddy; it had been a long time since he'd flirted with anyone like this, and gotten an equally flirty response. His heart felt like literal angels were carrying it up to heart-Jesus himself.

This was it. Zayn would be the person to lift Niall out of the deep, dark abyss of unrequited love towards his best friend. Niall was just grateful that said savior was one of the most beautiful men he'd ever laid eyes on.

Keys jingled from behind the door, but Niall was too preoccupied to notice. He was drafting the perfect text to send Zayn when Harry walked through the door, home from work. Niall didn't notice him at all until he felt the couch sag from Harry's weight next to him.

"You're home early." Niall stated, eyes still glued to his phone screen, erasing and adding to his text.

Harry huffed and sank down on the couch, "Yeah, I think I might've caught a cold." He sniffled as if on cue.

Now Niall had his full attention on Harry, and he did look sick. His skin was more pallid than usual, save for his nose and cheeks which were tinted pink. Harry's lips looked puffier and redder than normal as well. All the symptoms showing that he had, in fact, caught a cold.

Instinctively, Niall placed his palm on Harry's forehead, trying to detect signs of a fever. There was slight warmth, more than usual there, which meant Harry wasn't feverish yet, but he would be soon. Harry whimpered a little in protest, not wanting to be babied, but Niall insisted. He pressed the back of his palm to Harry's burning cheek. Definitely sick. He felt Harry pressing back slightly, probably enjoying the soothing coldness Niall's skin offered.

When Niall pulled back his hand and looked at poor Harry, his mouth was hanging open slightly, enough for him to breathe out of it instead of his stuffed up nose. His lips were bright from dehydration, and his nose was already red from sniffling and blowing into tissues. Niall got irritated with himself. If he hadn't brought Zayn back last night, Harry wouldn't have slept in the tub with his wet hair and caught a cold.

"It's because you slept in that damn bathtub last night." Niall muttered, already standing up to make Harry a mug of his favorite chamomile tea. "Go to your room and lie down, I'll bring you some tea and medicine, ok?"

Harry's responding hum was faint, but Niall was listening intently, and sure enough, he heard Harry's feet shuffle towards his room.

Niall worked quickly, microwaving the mug of water even though he knew he was downright sinning, and popping out a few NyQuil gel pills for Harry, and pouring out a glass of water because he knows Harry doesn't like to swallow his pills dry. All he wanted was for Harry to be tucked away in bed, drifting off to sleep in less than forty-five minutes.

Five minutes later, he made it to Harry's room, knocked once and waited for Harry's groan to enter.

"Ok," Niall whispered, setting down the mug of tea, and water, and pills on Harry's nightstand, kneeling by his bed, "I brought you some tea, but it's still kind of hot, so you should take some pills before you drink that." 

"Is it chamomile?" Harry breathed out.

"Yeah, and there's some NyQuil here too, so you can sleep."

Harry sat up in bed, and reached for the pills and water. Niall watched his closely, ready to help if need be. But Harry popped the two pills in his mouth, and with two gulps of water, swallowed them. He reached for the hot mug of tea next, fingers tingling from the heat warming his cold stiff fingers. The piping hot vapor coming off the tea was making him sleepy already, Niall could see it in Harry's drooping eyelids. Niall watched closely as Harry sipped a few times, sniffled his nose, and went back for more until half the cup was gone. Then he sat back down in bed and pulled his comforter around him.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled faintly, already drifting off.

"No problem," Niall got up and started walking out, "it's my fault ur sick anyways." He chuckled. "I'll go make some soup for when you wake up, ok?" Niall added, already walking out the door. He didn't stay to hear Harry's thank-you.

\----------

When Harry woke up, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry. He sniffed his nose to try and clear his sinuses, and turned towards the window. There was no light outside; he must have slept for a couple of hours. The screen on his phone confirmed him. It read 7:46, almost five hours after he came home sick.

He scrunched his eyebrows together and huffed, still huddled in a fetal position, enveloped by his tangle of sheets and the comforter. The crack under his door let in a sliver of light, and when Harry listened closely, he heard the sound of the TV accompanied by Niall's fits of little giggles.

The thought of Niall brought some comfort to Harry. He thought about how worried Niall had been when he came home sick, how Niall had pressed his hands all over Harry's face gingerly, checking for temperature.

This wasn't the first occurrence of Niall fussing over a sickly Harry. Two years ago, on a camping trip with Liam and Louis, Harry had caught a cold because he swam in the frigid lake after losing a bet with Louis (Louis said he could fit ten mini hot dogs in his mouth, and Harry didn't believe him. Turns out Louis is a man of many talents). He remembered how Niall had rowed one of the canoes out to the middle of the lake where Harry had swum. Immediately, Niall pulled Harry up into the canoe and wrapped a thick fluffy blanket around him, yelling to Louis, "Harry's gonna be fucking dying, and it'll all be your damn fault!" Niall rowed back to shore with Harry chattering his teeth and shivering across from him. That night, after having shown multiple symptoms of a cold and slight fever, Niall pulled Harry into the sleeping bag with him, ignoring all of Harry's protests that Niall would catch a cold too. Harry had never had a better night's sleep. The two woke up with Niall's cheek pressed to Harry's back, creases red on his face, imprinted from the wrinkles on Harry's sweatshirt, and Harry's long legs intertwined with Niall's. And Niall, assuming Harry was still asleep, pressed a small kiss to his back, between his shoulder blades, making Harry's breathing hitch and his skin turn even hotter.

That was something they never talked about. But even two years later, it's still Harry's place of comfort in his mind. Deep down, he knows. Harry knows he loves Niall, platonically and romantically. But Harry also knows, and keeps reminding himself, that no good would ever come out of loving your best friend, especially when he doesn't seem to love anyone himself.

The aroma of chicken soup tickles Harry's nostrils, teasing him. At first he thinks it's an illusion, because with the goddamned snot up his nostrils, he couldn't smell correctly. But when the scent wafted by his nose a couple more times, Harry knew it was real. Niall had made chicken soup for him. Harry smiled a little to himself at how domestic Niall has grown over the years.

When they first met, Niall couldn't make a cup of ramen without screwing something up. And now, he's making soup, all by himself, without any help from Harry. Still, Harry almost never lets him cook. He stocks the fridge with plenty of leftovers for Niall when he's off to work. Most nights when they stay in, Harry will try out his new recipes for Niall. Two nights ago, it was curry chicken with rice, which Niall scarfed down in under five minutes, and went back for some more. Seeing Niall devour food he made had the same effect on Harry that small kittens chasing lasers had on most people.

He decided he would get out of bed just because Niall had went through all of this effort to cook for him. Slowly but surely, Harry pulled himself out of the embrace of his bed. His room was quite cold, so he pulled on a fluffy bathrobe and slipped his bare feet in a pair of slippers. There were curls in his face, and creases on his cheeks.

Sure enough, when he walked into the living room, there was Niall, a bowl of soup cradled between his lap and stomach, watching a movie.

"Hey," Niall jumped up as soon as he saw Harry standing in the doorway, still half asleep, trying to figure out what movie Niall was watching. It seemed so familiar, but Niall wouldn't be watching a movie like that and be awake.

"What are you watching?" Harry croaked out, walking into the kitchen already.

Niall followed behind him, watching him carefully, making sure that Harry won't fall and die suddenly. He even grabbed a bowl from the top cabinet for Harry. As Harry ladled hot chicken soup dotted with veggies into his bowl, Niall just leaned against the counter, supported by his elbows.

"It's, uh, Midnight in Paris, I think." Niall answered Harry's question. Harry's confused face prompted another question, why was Niall watching this? He's never been interested in movies like this.

"That guy, Zayn, told me to watch it. Said I'd like it." Niall explained, shrugging. Harry set his bowl on the counter next to Niall and raised an eyebrow as he reached for a spoon in the drawer, silently asking the question, do you like it?

Niall shrugged again, "Eh, it's alright, isn't terrible, just a bit boring. You would like it though, full of art and literature references. Goes right over my head though."

Harry blew on his soup and smiled bitterly, "I've seen it, multiple times. Asked you to watch it with me actually, but you didn't want to." So Zayn, who's only known Niall for one night, can make Niall watch a movie about a subject he was never interested in, but have Harry try with the same, exact movie, and Niall ignores him, saying that he'd be so dulled by it. That bothered Harry.

He didn't look up as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, but Harry knew Niall was blushing, embarrassed that he refused to watch this movie with Harry and do it only on the recommendation of a guy he barely knows. And why? Just because they fucked, once.

"Well," Niall broke the silence, "you wanna come watch it with me?"

Harry nodded, still avoiding Niall's pleading gaze. He wanted to stay resentful, it would make things a lot easier.

Niall made his way to the couch first, fluffing up a pillow and setting it against the armrest for Harry to lean against. Sitting with his feet forward has never been a thing for Harry. He always sat with his legs stretched across the couch, so when he and Niall watched TV together, the bottom of his feet would be warm from pressing up against Niall's thighs.

Tonight though, Harry took a different position, with his knees tucked in. He could feel Niall looking at him, waiting for him to stretch out his legs, but he wouldn't do it. He ignored Niall, already focusing on the movie. A heavy sigh came from Niall, who was already pulling out his phone. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye, still sipping soup from his spoon.

Something Niall read made him laugh, and a moment later, he was typing. Harry had no doubts that he was texting Zayn. That would explain the giggles that Harry heard earlier. They weren't from the rom-com he thought he would join Niall in watching, they were from Niall reading texts from Zayn. That annoyed Harry just a tiny bit.

"Who're you texting?" Harry asked, eyes fixed on his soup. He hoped his tone didn't sound too bitter.

Niall doesn't look at him either when he answers, "Zayn." A short, sweet sucker punch to Harry's heart. He doesn't know why he asked. Did he need to confirm him suspicions, just to feel that pain? Just to know that, yes, he does love Niall? Did he just admit that he loves Niall? He's known all along, but now he was thinking it, the tightness of his chest confirmed it.

This wasn't supposed to happen. And Harry's sure it wouldn't have, except Niall had to go and actually like someone. How ironic that Harry refused to believe he loved Niall based on the whim that Niall wouldn't love anyone back, but now, here he was, smitten with a boy that definitely was not Harry. And Harry couldn't do anything about it. He had his chance, and he blew it. But he wanted to say something, confess to Niall before things got too far with Zayn. Maybe Niall would even pity him enough to end things with Zayn.

But if Niall doesn't feel the same way about Harry, then things between them would be awkward. He likes the way things are now, when he and Niall can cuddle on movie nights with their feet intertwined (Niall's always been a huggy, cuddly person, and he and Harry were close enough for them to cuddle without it being weird). He likes how much he and Niall talk about everything possible, school, work, music, the meaning of life. He likes dancing around the kitchen, singing The Eagles songs with Niall on the top of their lungs, making up beautiful harmonies without meaning to (Niall and Harry were both majoring in music. Harry was in songwriting and producing, and Niall was in composing). He likes when Niall helps him write a song, plucking out a melody on his guitar or banging it out on the piano they spent months saving up for. For the whole time they knew each other, Niall had been trying to teach Harry to play guitar, and Harry always gives up, declaring he only needs the piano. All those things, Harry realized, had made him fall in love with Niall. What if they did the same to Niall too?

Instead of answering with words out of fear that his voice would crack if he did, Harry just nodded, and set his bowl down and faced forward. He couldn't tell Niall because he wasn't sure they would be able to stay just friends if he told Niall the truth. So, all he could do was stare into the swirls of oil in his soup and nod, and try not to look at Niall.

\----------

Niall wasn't sure, but he's sure he saw something resembling jealousy in Harry's face when he asked who Niall was texting. If Niall knew that all these years, all it would take for Harry to pay attention to him was to like someone else, he would've done so a long time ago.

But Niall wasn't about to give up on Zayn just because he piqued Harry's interest a tiny bit. All these years Niall had basically made his fancy for Harry blatantly obvious with all the cuddles, the accidental kisses on the cheek when he wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, trying to show him where he should hold the strings and where to pick. Those signs should've made it easy for Harry to realize, but he didn't. The only reason he did now was because Niall had moved on. And Niall wasn't satisfied with that.

And anyways, Zayn was a nice guy. Maybe Niall wasn't in love with him, but he sure did like him, a lot. He knew for sure he wasn't going to stop talking to Zayn just because Harry had shown a spark of interest in him. A big part of him wanted to make Harry jealous, it sure would give him satisfaction. He knew it was petty, but Niall wanted Harry to covet him, just as much as Niall had all these years.

Still, he was annoyed that instead of pleading him to stop talking to Zayn, all Harry could do was stare stupidly into his soup and not make a sound. And he never even told Niall what a good job he did on tonight's dinner.

Silence between them usually wasn't so awkward, but tonight the tension in the room was so thick no knife in the world could've cut through it. The two boys sat on opposite ends of the couch, pretending the other didn't exist. And Niall was tired of it. Without a single word to Harry, he stood up and walked back into his room, leaving Harry out there alone.

Once Niall was lying in bed, he started to feel a little guilt for abandoning Harry like that. The poor boy was sick and needed someone to tuck him in. Niall had never left Harry to fend for himself like that. The two always took care of each other. And Niall had just walked away from his best friend.

Carefully, Niall slipped out of his room and peeked in the living room. The TV had been turned off and Harry wasn't on the couch. His bowl of soup was on the coffee table next to a mug of cold tea.

There wasn't a crack of light coming from underneath Harry's door, yet Niall still knocked on it. Harry made a noise, and Niall took that to mean he could come in.

Slowly, he made his way to Harry's bed and plopped down on the end of it. Harry was laying down in bed, his body curled up in a ball, face buried in his pillow.

"Sorry I left." Niall felt awkward and too blunt, but he knew no other way to apologize.

Harry just shrugged, still refusing to pull his face out of the sheets.

"Are you mad?" Niall felt like he was going to cry. He was never too good with people being mad at him, especially when it's someone who's never mad at anyone.

Harry's silence ate away at Niall's composure, but finally he turned over, and huffed, blowing the long strands of hair out of his face.

"No," Harry answered, looking straight at Niall with a small smile, "I was just kind of, I don't know, upset, I guess that you watched the movie because Zayn said you should. I mean, you barely know him. But when I asked you to watch it, you wouldn't." Harry paused, and his comforting smile turned into a sheepish one. "That was kind of dumb, wasn't it?"

But Niall was relieved that Harry wasn't mad. He was even a bit happy that Harry had admitted that he was upset. Even though the exact words, "I was upset because you're talking to Zayn" didn't leave Harry's mouth, Niall could hear Harry's bitterness when he talked about Zayn. It probably wasn't good for Niall to feel so much satisfaction from Harry's jealousy, but he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

"You're not being dumb." Niall pats Harry's feet and grins. "Just a little tinsy bit petty." The last part earned him a soft kick from Harry who was retracting his head back under the covers. Now was the part in Niall's fantasies when Harry would flip up the covers to invite Niall in, and he would climb in behind Harry, wrapping his arms around Harry's warm tummy, peppering kisses to the freckles on Harry's back and neck.

But all he could do was slide off the bed and close the door on his way out.

\----------

Tonight, Harry was supposed go to dinner with the boys and Zayn and pretend like he wasn't dying on the inside.

For the whole, entire four years he'd known Niall, the boy has never had a relationship that lasted more than one night. Now, Niall had been seeing Zayn for a whole, entire month during which Harry had formally met Zayn (Harry didn't completely hate Zayn when they met which irked Harry because he wanted to hate the boy who took Niall from him, but the guy was just so damn likable). And Harry had basically lived with Louis and Liam for the month because he couldn't stand to be around Niall and Zayn and their constant making out and dry humping.

Niall was introducing Zayn to the other boys for the first time today, which meant things were more serious that Harry would've liked to believe. Admittedly, Harry had been holding on to the hope that Niall would stop seeing Zayn after the tenth hook-up, but it's been a month and the pair just seemed to get closer and closer while Harry and Niall were driven further and further apart.

Instead of seeing each other every morning and walking to classes together, Harry only saw Niall in creative writing and occasionally in the music hall, with Zayn, of course. He tried to make his contempt for Zayn inconspicuous, but part of him wanted Niall to notice so he would stop. But lately, nothing has been able to take Niall's attention off Zayn.

Niall hadn't even bothered to tell Harry about dinner tonight. He had only informed Liam and Louis, and they were the ones who asked if Harry was coming. So actually, Harry wasn't one hundred percent sure Niall knew he was coming.

Harry knew that usually when the person you like dates someone else, you're supposed to move on, forget about him. But Harry couldn't do that, especially when he lived with the boy. So he just watched as Niall's love life blossomed while his withered away, thinking that it wasn't supposed to be this way. He and Niall were supposed to grow their love together, in a relationship. But he couldn't tell Niall, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't take his friend's happiness away, not even for his own.

"Haz, remember to be nice tonight." Louis's reminder snapped Harry back into reality. Harry nodded shortly, rolling his eyes. He was pulling on his shoes, waiting for Liam to finish getting ready so they could walk to Nick's Pizzeria. Louis was the only one whom Harry had told about Niall. Then again, Harry had told Louis everything since eighth grade.

Out of the blue, Louis had asked Harry one night when they were watching a movie after having a few beers, how he felt about Niall's new boyfriend. Harry decided to tell the truth because Lou could always tell when Harry was lying. Surprisingly, Lou wasn't surprised at all. He even said he expected it to happen, how could Harry not fall in love with that beautiful, sunny, blonde boy? He even said that he'd suspected it for a few years now. Even if Harry hadn't admitted it, he could see.

If it weren't for Lou telling him that it wouldn't be fair to Niall if Harry were to tell him how he felt, Harry would've done it long ago. He felt terrible, letting his and Niall's friendship go to ruin because of a boy, but Harry couldn't stand to be around Zayn, mostly because he was so easily likable. Worst of all, Zayn was the perfect guy for Niall, reserved and quiet, the perfect counter to Niall's loud, extroverted personality. The two, much to Harry's distain, complemented the other both in terms of looks and personality. Niall's pale skin and light hair clashed with Zayn's light olive skin and midnight black hair. Not only that, but Zayn was the only one other than Harry who managed to tone down Niall's nervous energy when he was going to present a composition. Harry had seen it in person. Two weeks ago, Niall was supposed to present a piano sonatina in his composition class and had been jittery all through lunch, but when Zayn came and whispered a few words to Niall, he stopped shaking almost instantly, and looked at Zayn with awe. The scene had miffed Harry so much that he left the dining hall without finishing his food, not that Niall not Zayn cared.

"Liam! Let's fucking go!" Louis yelled at Liam, who was scrambling out of the bathroom, still pulling on his shirt. Louis muttered something about Liam looking like he was the one on a date while Liam shoved his feet inside he boots.

After waiting for Louis to lock the door, the three set off to their favorite spot on campus to meet with Niall and Zayn.

"Harry, what's he like?" Liam asked. Harry didn't know how to answer that. He kept on stepping on he yellow oak leaves dead on the ground.

After a minute, he shrugged, "He's pretty cool. Really artsy and stuff." Harry paused before he added the next part, still hesitant to admit it. "He's really good for Niall, I think." Louis was smiling up at him, Harry could see it out of the corner of his eye.

The cold October air was stinging his face, making it hard to breathe. Harry wondered if Niall remembered to bring a jacket. That boy was always insisting that he wasn't cold, so Harry always had to carry an extra sweater or hoodie for him, knowing well that Niall would ask for it sooner or later.

Liam and Louis were talking about going to the basketball game tomorrow night and how much fun it was going to be. They asked Harry but Harry just shook his head no. He'd never been one for things like that. Usually Niall went with them, but he was so preoccupied with Zayn lately that the four of them have been hanging out together less as a group.

Harry was grateful for the warm air in the pizzeria when they walked in. His face immediately warmed, tingling a little from the sharp temperature contrast. Harry's eyes swept around the tiny room for Niall's face, and caught him waving in a booth towards the back, with Zayn sitting next to him and a pizza already on the table.

Soon, he and Louis and Liam were trying to squeeze themselves inside the tight semi-circle booth. Harry ended up being pressed between Liam and Niall with Louis next to Zayn.

"Hey, stranger." Niall greeted Harry, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I ordered already. Mushrooms, bacon, and chicken." Two pieces were already gone. Harry felt annoyance creeping into his brain again. This pizza was his and Niall's pizza, not Zayn's. There was history behind this pizza. It took several months for him and Niall to compromise between pizza toppings because they would have to order just one pizza to save money. Louis and Liam knew to never touch Harry and Niall's pizza. Those two ordered their own.

Without saying a word, Harry slid a slice onto his plate, still bitter about the pizza situation, but also very hungry.

Niall was busy introducing Zayn to Liam and Louis who were asking a multitude of questions, and complimenting Niall for finding someone so handsome and fitting for him. All the while, Harry just picked at his pizza, staying radio silent.

"I've got a small olive, chicken, white pizza, and a large pepperoni with sausage." The waiter's announcement interrupted the table conversation.

"I've got the chicken." Zayn raised his hand, and his own pizza was placed in front of him. Then Harry remembered Niall telling him that Zayn was Muslim, meaning no pork, meaning he wasn't eating his and Niall's pizza, meaning Harry was a dumbass and also a baby. Niall turned to him like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking, and just raised his eyebrows. All Harry could do in response was huff and turn away because his face was burning, and not because of the heating in the restaurant.

"So Zayn," Louis started the conversation again, his mouth already full of food, "what's your major?"

Zayn, having a lot more table etiquette than Louis did, swallowed before answering, "Graphic design. Want to go into like animation and stuff I think."

Louis grinned, "So that means you're, like, a major comic book geek, yeah?" The only reason Louis brought this up was because he himself was a comic geek. Harry remembers back in grade school when Louis had all DC superhero gear, and even sophomore year in college when he and Liam saved up enough money to go to Comic Con in San Diego, and Liam had dressed up as Batman with Louis as his Robin.

"Yeah, mostly Marvel though. Love, like, the Hulk." Zayn answered Louis question, though not exactly with the answer he wanted.

Louis face fell in disappointment as he let out a sigh of disgust. "Marvel? Marvel?! They're shit! Can't even make a good movie!"

Zayn started to retort back, and with his boyfriend distracted for the moment, Niall turned to talk to Harry.

"So, when're you thinking about moving back in?" Niall asked, his tone casual, but the way he stared at Harry was serious.

Not in the mood to get confrontational, Harry just simply said, "Never moved out in the first place, Ni."

"You just," Niall shrugged, still trying to steer the conversation away from being too serious, "you're never around the house anymore."

Really? Harry wanted to say. He wasn't sure Niall noticed his absence at all with his new distraction. But he just shrugged again, hoping Niall would let it go. And he did.

Louis and Zayn were still arguing about which comic brand was better, but Niall, wanting attention again, slung his arm across Zayn's shoulders and kissed his cheek.

Harry watch the pair closely, how Zayn sunk into Niall as soon as he felt Niall's arm around him, how comfortably the fit into each other. Their happiness broke his heart. Best friends weren't supposed to break each other's hearts.

"You alright, Harry?" Liam tapped his knee with Harry's under the table, grabbing his attention.

Harry smiled at his friend. He always appreciated the way Liam was able to tell when something was wrong, and most times, Harry would tell him the truth. But he couldn't, not here, not now. So instead he nodded and took another bite.

But Liam didn't let it go, nothing had ever been able to get past Liam. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "It won't be so bad if you stop watching them be this way." Liam knew. Of course he did. Harry was sure Louis had told him; Louis tells Liam everything.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, biting over it again and again between his teeth. No response came from him, all he could do was nod again. Nothing would make him happier than for the night to end. All he wanted to do right now was curl up in bed and sleep and forget about Niall and Zayn, and how perfect they are for each other, and how happy he and Niall would've been if only he had just confessed.

\----------

Niall wished Harry would've come home tonight. He had barely set foot in the house for almost two months now. The reason for his absence, though, was clear to Niall. Zayn was an intruder on their living space, and Harry didn't want to deal with that. He never wanted to confront Niall about anything, so instead he just moved to Liam and Louis's house.

Now, Zayn was taking up the empty space in the house, usually though, he would leave right before Niall went to bed, so he could get back home because his classes were closer to his apartment than Niall's. So, Niall was left alone in the house almost every night, except on Friday and Saturday nights, when Zayn would stay over. Sometimes Harry popped in during the day to pick up some clothes and supplies, but would usually slip out the door before Niall had the chance to say anything to him.

This new living arrangement was strange to Niall. He felt lonely and abandoned without Harry here. Every night, even when Zayn was here, before he drifted, and when he thought Zayn had fallen asleep, he would tiptoe over to Harry's room to check if he'd come back. Niall was always disappointed with what he saw, or rather lack thereof.

"What are you thinking about?" Zayn looked up at Niall with his glowing caramel eyes. They were curled up on the couch with Zayn between Niall's legs, splayed out in front of him on the sofa, Niall's arms wrapped around him like a safety blanket.

"Nothing." Niall just shrugged. Subconsciously, he turned his head toward the open door of Harry's room, still thinking.

Zayn's gaze followed his eyes, and he immediately sat up.

"He hates me doesn't he?" Zayn turned to face Niall.

At first Niall didn't comprehend what Zayn is saying, mostly because he isn't paying too much attention. But then he realized he had looked over at Harry's room without meaning to. Niall still doesn't know how to answer the question. He and Harry have barely talked since Zayn started becoming a prominent part of his life. The only real communication they had was sitting together in the dining hall, making stupid small talk.

"No, he doesn't hate you," Niall lies to protect Zayn's feelings, "Harry doesn't hate anyone." He looks at Zayn, who isn't looking the least bit convinced.

"You're lying." Zayn stated emotionlessly and coldly. Niall knew what was coming next. How could Zayn not have known? He'd made it so obvious.

Zayn stood up, lips pressed together and eyes narrowed at Niall.

"You think I don't know?" He started, already walking away from Niall. "You check his room every, single, fucking night. He's not going to be there, you know. He's not coming back. You know why? Because I'm here." Zayn paused to take a breath and let Niall speak. When Niall didn't take the chance, he began again, "And I don't know what happened between you two, but you need to figure that out because clearly, you care about him more than you care about me." Niall tried to cut in this time, trying to explain that it wasn't true, but Zayn didn't stop for him. "And don't fucking tell me it's not the truth, Niall. I know it is."

"Zayn, no, it's not like that." Niall explained frantically himself moving closer to the other boy. "There was never anything between me and Harry, I mean it. I mean, yes, there were some feelings, but nothing happened, I swear to God, please believe me."

Still Zayn looked hurt. Niall was afraid to touch him for fear that Zayn would fall apart if he touched him. There were tears brimming in Zayn's eyes, and Niall felt so guilty for causing this. He should've gotten over Harry the minute he and Zayn went out. But Niall doesn't know how to un-love someone, he'd never learned.

"Fine," Zayn was choking up, and Niall thought he would finish there, but he went on, "if I asked you to choose right now, me or Harry, who would it be?"

Niall was dumbstruck. Zayn or Harry? He knew he should've said Zayn, he wanted to say Zayn, he willed his lips to make out the name "Zayn." But he couldn't do it. Couldn't spit out the name because his heart still said Harry, and his heart controlled his body more than his brain ever did. All he could do was stand there, staring pleadingly into Zayn's eyes, which had now started spilling tears.

Without another word, Zayn flung open the door and stormed out, leaving it open behind him. Niall followed him out, standing on the porch, calling his name, but Zayn didn't turn back, of course he didn't. He knows what Niall really thinks, whom he really loves. And now Niall knew too.

He couldn't find the strength to chase after Zayn, so he just collapsed on the step of the porch, crying with his head between his knees and his hands on his head.

He was so stupid. Why couldn't he just tell Zayn he loved him? Sure, it might have been a little early in the relationship for that, but it would've kept Zayn around. And he knew he was selfish for this, but he didn't want to be alone, and at least Zayn provided him with human company, and love, something no one else was willing to give him. Now he had no one.

Niall sat on the porch, crying until his body shook, both from the cold of the night and hyperventilation. He finally came to his senses after a good twenty minutes of bawling his eyes out, and slowly, he trudged back inside the house.

He made his way into his bathroom and decided he would take a bath with one of Styles's bubble bath soaps. The bathtub filled with water on the verge of being scalding, and Niall poured the cocoa coconut soap in, watching the tub foam up with bubbles. He stripped and stepped into the tub shivering at how hot the water was against his freezing skin. Once settled, Niall pulled his legs to his chest. He felt like crying again because this was Harry's favorite soap, and the way it smelled reminded him of Harry. In the back of his mind, he kept reminding himself of how stupid and childish he sounded, yet he couldn't stop sniffling and choking on his breaths.

He sat there with his knees and everything above his chest out of the water until it got too cold. Still shaking, Niall unplugged the bathtub and wrapped himself in a towel. He pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants and curled up in bed. The silence in the house was too much for him. He couldn't stand it. Niall couldn't stand being lonely. The pillow on the left side of his bed smelled like Zayn's cologne, but his whole body smelled like Harry on Friday night when they're cuddling on the couch, watching TV. His heart was breaking and no one was around to fix it. This was what his hell must feel like, he thought. No flames or screams, just the feeling of complete isolation and even worse, no one trying to make you feel better.

This was why he never fell in love. He hated being left alone. Niall knew that everyone had this innuendo that he didn't fall in love because he was just a player, he didn't feel emotional attachment to anyone. But that wasn't true. He did it to protect himself. The problem was that Niall fell in love too easily and too much that he was always the one to get his heart broken.

There was this idealized version of love in his mind, and he tried so hard not to ruin it with useless, time-wasting relationships. What Niall wanted in a relationship was everything he and Harry had, with a little more kissing and sex involved. That's why he was always hesitant to start a relationship with anyone else. He was waiting for the perfect one to start. But Zayn reminded him so much of Harry with his soft-spoken ways and willingness to look after Niall, that he had become infatuated, but not in love with Zayn. He'd been in love with Harry this whole time. Zayn knew, and the fact that he still stayed made Niall feel guilty that he couldn't get over Harry, not even for Zayn who chose to overlook that fact for so long.

What broke Niall's heart the most was how distant he and Harry had grown. He'd never meant for it to happen, but he knew Zayn drove Harry away. Why didn't he make an effort to keep both of them around? Maybe if he had done so, then at least one of them would be around right now.

He couldn't take the loneliness anymore. He couldn't stand being torn apart by two boys. So he chose one. Niall lifted himself out of his own bed and went to Harry's. Harry's bed was cold after having been abandoned for two months. Niall crawled in and buried his face in Harry's pillow. Harry's familiar smell of apples, cinnamon, and coconut crept into Niall's nose. It was the only thing to comfort Niall after a few hours. After a few minutes, Niall fell asleep, drained by all his crying.

\----------

Harry was out of clean underwear, that was the only reason why he would go back to the house on Sunday morning, knowing Zayn was going to be there, taking over his role as Sunday breakfast maker.

When Harry reached for his key to open the door, he noticed that it wasn't closed all the way.

Fear set in to Harry's head even though he knew it wasn't in the least bit rational. An unlocked door meant many things. Someone might have broken into the house in the middle of the night and carried Niall and all of their possessions off, or Niall would've been woken by a crazy thief breaking in and the thief could've killed him. Niall could be dead right now.

"NIALL?!" Harry pushed the door open, shouting Niall's name on the top of his lungs. He looked frantically around the living room for any signs of Niall. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt empty despite his heavy breathing. Then he heard rustling in his room, and his heart stopped.

"Niall?" Harry called again. This time hearing a small groan in response. Harry sprinted to his room to find Niall in his bed, looking like he'd just woken up.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?" Harry was sure he sounded angry, which was not the way he wanted to sound. He sat down on the foot of his bed and looked at his friend. Niall's eyes were puffy and red with dried tears streaking his face, and Zayn was nowhere to be found. Slowly, Harry started to piece everything together.

Niall had mumbled something, but Harry was still trying to regulate his breathing.

"What was that?" Harry leaned closer to Niall to hear him better.

"Said Zayn broke up with me last night, and my pillow smelled like him. So I just decided to sleep in your room." Niall grumbled sheepishly, looking his his hands. Harry felt relieved. Not only was Niall safe and sound, but now Zayn was gone too. He shouldn't feel this way, though. Niall was completely heartbroken and he couldn't even be here last night to comfort him.

"'M sorry, Ni," Harry apologized, because he truly felt bad for Niall. He's never seen Niall like this. Usually Niall was the one finding Harry like this and always making him tea to cheer him up. "You could've called."

Niall shook his head, "Didn't want to bother you." His words crushed Harry's heart. How could he let this happen? How could he let Niall feel like he couldn't call Harry to come over and comfort him?

"Niall, you know you can always call me." Harry pulled Niall's head into his chest. He could feel moisture from Niall's tears near his heart. Niall nodded, rustling Harry's tee shirt. Without meaning to, Harry kissed the top of Niall's head as his own tears started settling in. He couldn't believe he allowed Niall to think that he couldn't call Harry anymore. If Harry had been more supportive and welcoming to Niall's new relationship, then Niall would've been ok. But the poor boy was broken now, Harry could feel it in the limpness of his body.

They sat there on the bed for a while, Niall's head resting on Harry's shoulder, face buried in Harry's chest while Harry rubbed his back.

Finally, Niall rose his head up and looked at Harry with a melancholy smile.

"Wanna know why he broke up with me?" Niall asked, his face red and sad. Harry nodded, scared of the answer, but he wanted Niall to know that he was there for him. "He figured out that I was in love with you."

Harry couldn't breathe, couldn't begin too comprehend what Niall had said. He was sure his heart stopped beating. And Niall just sat in front of him, that sad smile still on his face. Niall had said he loved Harry, and Zayn knew, and that's why they broke up. But how did Zayn know? And how did Harry not know?

"Y-you what?" Harry stuttered, still yet to wrap his head around Niall's confession. It had never occurred to him that Niall could feel the same way about him. But now that he thought about it, he should've seen, should've known from all those nights when they would wrap themselves around each other watching a movie. Harry never thought more of it, one because he liked Niall, and two because he figured Niall was just a touchy person. All of those times Niall had brushed his lips against Harry's face, back, and arms went over Harry's head as signs that he liked Harry back because Harry was too busy trying to control his own feelings to worry about Niall's. And now they were all flooding out.

"I said I love you." Niall restated, this time staring straight at Harry with his glassy blue eyes, quivering lips open, anxious for any kind of answer.

Harry's head went blank. He didn't know how to form comprehensible words. So he didn't. He just leaned forward and caught Niall's open mouth between his own. Niall pushed back fervently into the kiss, his hands already snaking around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in closer and closer until the space between them was nonexistent.

Harry thinks he blacked out for a moment, because when he pulled away for a breath, his hands were pressing into Niall's hips, and he doesn't remember putting them there. The only thing he could think about was how Niall's lips felt like salty, velvety heaven against his.

He pressed his forehead to Niall's so their eyes were level with each other, and the cold tip of Niall's nose was pressing against the bridge of his own. The way the fit together perfectly amazed Harry even though he'd know it after all these years. But the fact that it finally meant something now made Harry's heart flutter. He was so lucky, he thought, to be in love with him best friend and have the same feeling returned.

Niall looked so breathtaking to Harry. His blue eyes sparkling now and his lips bright red contrasting with his pale skin, but there was still a pink tinge on his cheeks which always appeared when Niall was excited or embarrassed.

"Did that mean 'I love you too, Niall'?" Niall whispered, his finger was tracing a circle around Harry's neck, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Harry's hand left Niall's hip and settled under Niall's chin, his thumb brushing over Niall's bottom lip. Harry couldn't stop staring at them, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he's just kissed someone so beautiful, so perfect. He lifted Niall's chin so their lips were aligned again, and nodded once before kissing Niall again, this time softer than the first. Niall smiled into the kiss, his teeth brushing against Harry's lips. Both of them were perfectly content to just stay in this moment forever, never detaching from one another.

Harry's hands had slipped again, down across Niall's chest, and grappling his hips, pulling the blond into his lap. Their kiss had become slow and passionate, open-mouthed and full of tongue. Their lips moved together like they'd been doing this their whole lives.

Niall was practically climbing on Harry torso, arms still slung around Harry's neck. He could tell where this was going by Harry's heavy breathing and hips rolling into his. He pulled away from the kiss and immediately latched his lips on Harry's neck, placing kisses everywhere and stopping sometimes to nip and suck to make a lovebite. He could feel Harry's groans vibrating against his lips as his hands roamed downwards to squeeze Niall's ass.

Harry was hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. Niall's trail of kisses was now heading down to his collarbones. He noticed Niall spent a lot of time kissing over the birds underneath his collarbones, and he also noticed Niall's hard-on pressing against his stomach. Harry leaned back until he was lying flat on his bed, his head on the edge of the bed. Niall was pushing up Harry's shirt, mumbling that it was getting in his way. It came off quickly, and Niall went back to kissing Harry's tattoos. Niall had made his way down all the way to Harry's laurel tattoo on his hips before Harry stopped him, pulling him back up for another kiss.

Their erections were rutting against each other, seeking more and more friction. Harry's hand snuck down and reached into Niall's sweatpants. He knew Niall wasn't wearing any underwear. He had no trouble wrapping his hand around Niall's cock since Niall himself was eagerly thrusting into Harry's fist. There was no finesse to Niall's frantic thrusting; he was eager for any type of contact. Harry wanted him to slow down, because he knew if Niall did this any longer, he would've come right then and there, and Harry didn't want that just yet. So stopped flicking his wrist, and Niall groaned disapprovingly into their kiss. But Harry just waited for Niall to stop squirming.

When Niall finally got the hint, Harry started again, this time at a slow, agonizing pace. He thumbed over the slit, gathering up Niall's pre-cum to spread over Niall's entire cock. Niall was a moaning mess, letting out all of his groans into Harry's kisses. Harry could feel Niall's cock twitching, signaling his on-coming orgasm, so he stopped, not intentionally wanting to tease Niall, but because he wanted to come together. It would be symbolic and romantic.

Niall pulled away from the kiss, trying to regulate his breathing. He looked at Harry and how a sheen of sweat had covered his body. Harry's eyebrow raised, asking Niall to make the next move, so he did. Immediately, Niall slid off Harry's chest and straddled Harry's thighs, his fingers unbuttoning Harry's tight jeans. Niall wasted no time pulling them down, underwear and all, and letting Harry's cock lay against his stomach, the head spilling out slick pre-cum, making a puddle above his belly-button. Without breaking eye contract with Harry, Niall reached for his cock and gingerly wrapped his lips around the head.

"Shit!" Harry tried to buck up into Niall's mouth, stimulated by the sudden contact. If Niall could, he would be smirking right now. Instead, he just opened up his throat and let Harry's cock slide into his mouth.

"What the hell happened to your gag reflex?" Harry asked between breaths. He knew how stupid he sounded, Niall was blowing him, and all he could think about what that one time they played chubby bunny together and Niall could barely get two in his mouth.

Niall choked a little, half because of Harry's length poking at the back of his throat, half because he was laughing about the fact that Harry was actually and literally thinking about that one chubby bunny game right now.

Apparently, Niall choking had turned Harry on a lot, because his hand flew to Niall's head, his fingertips digging into Niall's scalp. Niall took the hint, and sucked up and down Harry's cock, making obscene slurping noises, jerking whatever parts of Harry his mouth couldn't cover.

Meanwhile, Harry squirmed and writhed under him, desperate for release but also trying to hold it back. He was on the verge of shooting his cum down Niall's throat when let his stiff cock fall from his lips. Tears were brimming in Niall's eyes from gagging on Harry's length. They made his eyes look bigger and his whole face look more innocent. Harry was in disbelief over how Niall could still look so innocent after doing something so filthy.

Niall straddled Harry again, this time with his ass right over Harry's cock, and started grinding.

"Fuck!" Harry groaned, bucking up to meet Niall's clothed ass. He could feel the crack slide over his sensitive cock. The fabric of Niall's sweatpants stimulated him even more. Once again, Harry was about to come when Niall lifted himself up and leaned over to the drawer of the nightstand to grab a condom and some lube.

Niall poured the lube over two of his fingers, and sat on Harry's lap again. He leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "I'm gonna finger myself, and prep myself for your cock, and you're going to watch me." Harry moaned again at Niall's dirty words, wishing Niall would hurry up. Niall left a kiss on Harry's jawline as he pushed a finger inside himself.

"Oh, my God." Niall squeezed his eyes shut. Short, heavy breaths were coming from his open mouth as he worked his finger slowly, in and out. Harry thought Niall downright looked like a pornstar.

He couldn't help himself when he breathed out, "God, Niall you're so fucking filthy." Harry didn't mean for it to come out, but Niall responded instantly, moaning in agreement and fucking himself harder on his fingers. His middle finger had joined his index, and he started scissoring his hole, trying to stretch as much as he could.

Harry remembered that Niall liked dirty talk, and decided to indulge him. 

"You look so hot right now Ni, fingers up your ass, just getting ready for my cock." Harry started stroking himself. Niall nodded and threw his head back, breathing harder than ever.

"Styles, I'm ready, please, now." Niall sounded so desperate. He was still fingering himself, not wanted to leave his hole empty.

"Ok babe, hand me the condom." Niall grabbed it and handed it to Harry. He pulled Niall in for a long kiss while he rolled on the condom. Niall was lining himself up with the head of Harry's cock, not breaking the kiss. Slowly, he sunk down further and further, making both of the boys moan into the kiss, until his ass was touching Harry's thighs.

"Can you move, Ni?" Harry pleaded. He wouldn't be able to hold his release off for long.

Niall nodded. His head was buried in the crook of Harry's shoulder, arms spread out, balling up the sheets in his fists. He started rolling his hips up and down Harry's length. He was in euphoria. His own cock was rubbing against his and Harry's stomach, the friction was pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

Niall could tell Harry was close too. His thrusts were becoming more and more out of sync.

"Ni, 'm so close." Harry moaned in Niall's ear. Niall whimpered against Harry's neck, sucking another love-bite. And that was it for Harry. With a loud shout and stuttered thrusts, he shot his cum into the condom.

Niall kept riding Harry through his orgasm because he hadn't come yet, and truthfully, he'd wanted to come at the same time. Without a word, Harry reached for Niall's cock again, whispering filthy words of encouragement and nipping at Niall's earlobe until Niall came with a string of curse words. His cock fell limp on Harry's stomach, still leaking drops of cum. The rest of it had landed on Harry's fingers. Without breaking eye contact with Niall, Harry licked every one of his fingers until he cleaned off the cum.

"And I'm the filthy one." Niall muttered into Harry's chest. Harry just chuckled and kissed the top of Niall's head.

For a moment they said nothing to each other and just listened to their breaths slowing down. Then slowly, Niall climbed off Harry's lap, wincing when Harry's limp cock left his hole. Harry took the condom off and tied it at the end and tossed it into the trash. Niall had cuddled into Harry's side, slinging an arm across his chest. Harry turned to Niall and pushed the hair plastered with sweat on his forehead to the side so he could kiss Niall's temple.

"We need to shower." Harry announced. His whole body was sweaty and sticky, and he was sure he smelled like sex.

Niall shook his head and pulled Harry closer to him, "Wanna cuddle for a bit."

Harry huffed and turned back over so his back faced Niall. He intertwined his fingers with the ones Niall placed over his stomach.

"Fine," Harry agreed, "but you're helping me wash the sheets tonight." Truthfully, he didn't want to get up either. He would have been perfectly content to just lay here in Niall's arms for the rest of his life.

Niall kissed the center of his neck and hummed against his skin.

"And I never did say it." Harry said, bringing one of Niall's hands up to his lips.

"What?"

"I love you, too."


End file.
